30 years ago I found feathers in my path whenever I walked in the woods near our house in Pennsylvania. I used the feathers to complete two masks. Once the masks were made, no more feathers. One mask was an ancestor; the other was to complete a mask of a woman who practiced seior or seidhr. She was a Seiokona or Volva, a practitioner of ancient Norse magic and seeing. The feathers pushed me to recognize and honor my heritage and ancestral abilities. 
In late May/early June, I found three Cooper’s hawk feathers on my daily walk on the path through Moore’s Lane woods. I also found numerous raven, robin, blackbird, goldfinch (female), American kestrel, turkey, mourning dove, and grouse feathers. Finding feathers can be messages from angels or deceased relatives and ancestors. As much as I love and believe in angels, I think this second mysterious batch has to do with my recent family history research. The feathers are messages from many different people. They are grateful to be remembered and have their stories told. What are the messages for me through the different feathers? Am I called to see something within a landscape? To soar above for a new perspective? To spot a tiny detail? Something to ponder, particularly during my upcoming visit to Maine.
